Tim Robey24 September 2015 • 11:54am

A true story of a woman held hostage by an escaped murderer turns out to be piece of cack-handed Christian propaganda

Based on a true story it bluntly insists is inspiring, and succeeding in not feeling true for more than seconds at a time, Captive starts with Kate Mara’s character, a single mother called Ashley Smith, struggling with rehab – she’s a crystal meth addict whose only hope of redemption lurks in the pages of American preacher Rick Warren’s Christian devotional manual The Purpose Driven Life.

Meanwhile, David Oyelowo’s character, Brian Nichols, breaks free of custody at the courthouse where he’s awaiting trial for rape, and kills three of its officials, including the presiding judge. For the next 26 hours, Nichols remained at large, and for most of that time, he laid low at Ashley Smith’s apartment, having broken his way in.

Smith gave him her drugs, and – more to the point – read out passages of Warren’s book to him, which seem to have had the desired impact. “It’s not too late.” “There is purpose in your life.” “Do the right thing.” These mantras – not the meth, we’re assured – eventually encouraged Nichols to turn himself in, and the real-life Smith took a turn on Oprah’s couch, where she got to meet Warren, in a clip the film includes, and thank him for his nuggets of wisdom.

Credit:
Paramount Pictures

This is more or less the entire outline of the movie, which has the peculiar effect of framing itself as an advert for Warren’s book: without meaning to, Captive carries with it the implication that Nichols’s killing spree had an upside of sorts, since his story is so readily co-optable as propaganda to spread the twinned words of Warren and of God.

Both Mara and Oyelowo – the latter of whom also co-produced the film – put in palpable effort to bring some grit to their acting assignments, beavering to distract us from the horrendously cack-handed direction. Their performances aren’t the problem. They’re prisoners. The film’s whole agenda is the problem.

It’s breathtakingly dishonest for Captive to dedicate itself to the families of Nichols’s victims, just in time for the end credits: after their shocking deaths at the start, only this closing homage pays them a moment’s further thought. For the message that no one is beyond hope or redemption to resonate in the least disconcerting way, it’s crucial that we be reminded of Nichols’s actual crimes as infrequently as possible. In paying them this last-ditch acknowledgement, the filmmakers try to pass this off as a sober memorial, even though it's pushing faith as an infallible cure-all. They can't have it both ways.